Memories Are For The Heartbroken
by Numb Smile
Summary: SpencerAshley. Angsty nc17. Part four Spencer's pov.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: _"Memories Are For The Heartbroken"_

**Disclaimer**: You know the drill; I own nothing – zip, nada, bupkiss. So to recap, I don't own South of Nowhere – that little gem belongs to _Tom Lynch_ and _The-N_. As for the song "_Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off_", rather unsurprisingly I don't own that either, that's property of _Panic! At The Disco _and whoever owns them.

**Rating**: NC-17/R/18 –_ a no, no for kiddies._

**Summary**: It was intended to be a one-parter smutty fic (which it still is), lets just say it's Spencer, a bed, her hand and a lot of memories – with a back-story at the beginning.

**Author's Note**: shakes head I don't know why I write smut – I know why I read it, but that's neither here nor there – I always have such a _tricky_ time when it comes down to it – lets call _that_ lack of experience – but alas as much as I loathe writing the stuff, I can't not write it. It's like a little switch gets flipped in my brain and I just have to put my perverted little ideas into a _Word_ document. So, if this fic sucks, blame my lack of sleep and deep dislike for penning smut.

**Feedback**: Usually I don't mind if you leave it or not – call it mutual apathy – however this is one of the rare occasions when I'll say it would be more than appreciated.

**Author's Note** (cont): Blimey, this is a long note, aint it? (Sorry, digressing), I was listening to the song earlier (whilst on a Spashley site) and thought, I could do smutty-song-fic, if I change a few things around. Blah.

As for the content, I had about seventy different ideas swimming in my head and this is what came of them – some of my original thoughts were better, meh.

As for the back-story, I don't really know where it came from – I guess I'm just incapable of writing pure-smut (who would of thought it) – but if a handful of people like the fic, I might snowball it into an actual ongoing story (rather than just a one-shot).

Oh and the memories are in italics.

Sorry for all rambling.

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All the thoughts of what had transpired between Ashley and herself, flooded through Spencer's mind, from the angry shouting to the muffled sobs, to the final blow ripping though her already shattered heart.

Spencer didn't want to remember all the pain she had both caused and suffered, the images kept rushing through her mind, the same scenes playing in the back of her eyes like a bad movie. To keep from screaming, she slammed her eyes shut and bit down on her lip, hard; her ivory teeth ripping through the pink flesh. As she felt the soft tissue rip, her teeth eased their grip on the now bleeding lip, her tongue subconsciously ran over the bruised lip connecting with the coppery taste of blood.

The muscles in her eyelids relaxed and once more her mind filled with another memory of Ashley, only this one was from a happier time. They were lying on Spencer's bed their limbs a tangle as they enjoyed a heated make-out session, their bodies rolling on top of each other, pushing the other back down as both girls struggled for dominance. As their hands disappeared into the snarled messes of each other's hair, the blonde had bitten down of her girlfriend's lip hard, harder than she had intended. The stunned brunette had pulled away from her lover, struggling to regain her breath, as she did Spencer noted the slithering trail of blood on Ashley's lips. The blonde had ferociously blushed as Ashley touched her newly bloody lip shooting her a stunned look. Feeling guilty for inflicting the minor injury on her girlfriend, Spencer tentatively kissed the lightly bleeding lip, letting her tongue run over the swollen lip, her taste buds struck with the metallic taste of Ashley's crimson blood.

The blonde still feeling guilty had made it up to her lover, several times.

Spencer sighed, her mind filling with memories of kissing Ashley, and touching Ashley, and making the brunette scream out her name as she writhed in ecstasy time after time.

**Is it still me that makes you sweat?  
Am I who you think about in bed?  
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?  
Then think of what you did  
And how I hope to God he was worth it.  
When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch your skin.  
I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck  
Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me  
Girl I was it look past the sweat, a better love deserving of  
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?  
No, no, no you know it will always just be, me**

Spencer stretched as she stood up, kicking her chair back into its place underneath the wooden bureau she had been working at. Her mind still flashed with memories of her beautiful ex-girlfriend as she turned her Cd player on.

She let out a bitter laugh as the mocking sound of _Panic! At The Disco_ filled the small room. She let her body fall back onto her soft bed. With her feet hanging over the edge, she pushed herself upwards, letting her head lie on the pillows as her eyes softly closed, thoughts of Ashley squirming underneath her heated touch still prominent in her mind.

**Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?**

Subconsciously her right hand drifted onto her stomach and started to play with the hem of the small pair of shorts she was currently wearing. Her mind swam with times Ashley had lightly rested her hand at the pit of her stomach before her fingertips had continued south. Whether playful and teasing or urgent and aggressive, Ashley's hands always seemed to reach Spencer, where she needed her girlfriend the most.

From their first time together when Ashley had been so patient for months and had taken things as slowly and gently as possible, stopping every now and again, checking to make sure Spencer was comfortable. To times of heated passion in small toilet cubicles, when deftly moving hands had found sensitive areas emitting strangled cries of pleasure. To leisurely lovemaking sessions on Saturday mornings. Once Spencer and Ashley had taken their relationship to a physical level they couldn't keep their carnal desires at bay and consequently their hands off of each other.

Spencer's slender fingers had already started to move in and out of her aching heat before she had even registered pushing the soft cotton of her panties aside.

**So I guess we're back to us, oh cameraman, swing the focus  
In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off?  
(Let's pick up, pick up)**

A memory of Ashley's fingers moving swiftly inside of her as the brunette nipped at her neck flooded through Spencer, the shorter girl muttering about how beautiful the blonde looked when she was nearing her orgasm.

Spencer thrust two fingers deeper into herself, curling them upwards thinking of the first time her and Ashley had a quickie at school, _"Spencer, I'm not sure, we could get…oh!" the brunette had lost her train of thought as soon as her lover had pushed three fingers into her already wet centre. As the taller girl's movements became more vigorous, she urged Ashley to wrap her legs around her waist. The smaller girl complied, the action pushing Spencer's fingers further into Ashley and the brunette was thankful that she was no longer standing as her legs were shaking so much she doubted that they would have supported her weight._

**Oh now I do recall, we were just getting to the part  
Where the shock sets in, and the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick.  
I hope you didn't expect to get all of the attention.  
Now let's not get selfish  
Did you really think I'd let you kill this chorus?**

As Spencer continued to plunge her fingers into herself, she remembered how Ashley had screamed an incoherent mix of "oh fuck", "god" and "don't stop" as she came, the sound of her gratification being combined with soft whimpers.

Ashley had been so easy to please, and Spencer had loved to please her girlfriend, in everyway she knew how – even in some ways she didn't know how.

"_You know you don't have to…jezzzzussss!" was what had spilled from Ashley's mouth as the tip of Spencer's tongue came into contact with the brunette's hardening clit. The blonde had bitten back on a giggle that threatened to escape her lips as she heard Ashley's sharp intake of breath. Throwing a quick glance upwards at her girlfriend, Spencer let her tongue slowly circle Ashley's clit, pleased with the low moans that the brunette had started to make, the taller girl sucked the nub into her mouth._

**Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?**

She grinned at the memory and added a third finger to her now dripping wet core, the soft groans she started to emit reaching her ears as Ashley's gentle sighs.

**Dance to this beat  
Dance to this beat  
Dance to this beat**

"I want you. Right here. Right now. I don't care if you get sand places you don't want sand, I'm horny." Before Spencer could even start to protest Ashley's fingers were already inside of her, curing up, grazing her g-spot. And as soon a there were there, the digits were being drawn out, and thrust back in, the blonde no longer only wet due her quick swim in the sea.

**Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster**

Ashley was always a fast mover, always so deft and agile, the brunette could go from saying she needed to be inside of her lover to kneeling in front of Spencer as the blonde trembled with pleasure.

Spencer hardly had any experience when it came to sex, but she knew no matter how many people she ended up sleeping with, none of them would be able to top Ashley and what the brunette could do to her.

**I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck  
Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me  
Girl I was it look past the sweat, a better love deserving of  
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?  
No, no, no you know it will always just be, me**

She thought of the times when their bodies would move in synchronous, lips finding lips, hands finding fabric barriers and fingers finding warmth. _"Do you want to me stop?" Ashley asked stilling her ministrations. "No, I just wanted to do this," her free hand slithered down Ashley's torso and into the brunette's panties. The smaller girl grinned as she unconsciously gasped, she soon recovered and her fingers started to glide back and forth out of Spencer, the taller girl matching each stroke, keeping the same tempo as her girlfriend._

**Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?**

Her fingers moved swiftly, pushing and pounding as fast as she could manage, her head a blur of memories and fantasies, a soft mutter of guilt on her lips as the words "**sins of the flesh**" slipped from her mouth. She was too far gone to even notice and any omission of Catholic guilt being replaced by the soft panting of her former lover's name.

The fingers moving weren't moving in her, they were moving inside of Ashley, pushing the brunette to the brink of ecstasy.

And they were Ashley's fingers moving deep within her, finding wet sensitivity, stirring feelings unknown to the blonde, unleashing want and need.

But Ashley wasn't inside of Spencer, she was hovering over her, telling her how beautiful she was, urging the taller girl on. Spencer's head rolled to the side, her climax imminent. She could feel Ashley's hand on her wrist, jerking her hand back and forth with more ferocity than she had ever before. The brunette's lips drifted over Spencer's neck, her tongue snaking out to taste the soft flesh. The blonde was too lost in the sensations she was causing herself to notice her soft cries and pant's of "Ash, Ash, Ash."

With one final thrust, her hips bucked off of the bed and her head ripped from side to side, her hair whipping back and forth over her glistening face. She could feel the cotton of her t-shirt coming into contact with her constricting stomach as she gasped for breath. Her left hand tangled in her duvet as her right stilled inside of her wet panties.

After what seemed like an eternity of regaining control of her breathing, and soon after the tremor's of her orgasm had stopped, Spencer slowly opened her heavy eyelids, her darkened blue orbs searching the room for the former love of her life. Even though she knew Ashley wasn't there, and the brunette that she had thought had been in the room with her was only a temporal hallucination, she couldn't help the tears that spilled from her heartbroken eyes.

**So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
Dance to this beat  
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
Dance to this beat  
And hold a lover close  
Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster**


	2. Somewhere in LA, a brunette is drinking

**Thanks for all the great feedback, you guys rock!** I don't know what I wanted to do with this fic - I'm pretty sure that this isn't what I had in mind, but alas I started to write and this is what happened.

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Ashley was drunk. Again. It seemed to be part of her daily routine; get up after midday, shower and get dressed, go out and get drunk. Those were the three constants in her life. And vomit.

And once again that week, the brunette was smashed out of her skull; it was probably the whiskey that did it _that_ day.

After being thrown out of whatever bar or club she was frequenting, Ashley would usually drive home – and amazingly she would always arrive at her house safely. Driving drunk is one thing, but driving whilst paralytically drunk is slightly different, and much harder.

Ashley would stumble out of her car and trip up and over every step leading to her bedroom. Every morning the brunette would wake up with a very sketchy recollection of the previous night and baffled as to how she got home. She would shower and have some food, shrugging off any worry of what she might have done.

Occasionally she would feel a wave of nausea sweep through her – not because of the alcohol diluting her blood but due to what she had become – and she wouldn't recognise the girl facing her in mirror. That was sensible Ashley. – Not the stereotypical remorseful drunk, but the part of Ashley that could see every action and could hear every word but was powerless to stop herself. – That was the small fragment of her mind that was conscious enough to register all of what she was doing, to regret it and will herself to stop, but her body would never listen. Instead she'd pound a couple of shots and that usually shut the guilt-ridden shadow of her former self up.

Aiden had grown tired of her despondency and left her to her own devices, leaving her completely alone. – Although what had happened hadn't been her fault, it had still ripped through every fibre of her being, shattering her defenceless heart. And she had started to wallow. And drink. – He had tried to help her, to be there for her as a friend, but for all of his efforts he'd seen no avail. Not seeing another option, he had turned his back on her and left. The action of watching yet another person walk out on her life, had pushed Ashley further into her depression.

So she drank more. And once more, she started to dabble in drugs. She didn't want to hurt anyone; she merely wanted to ease her own pain. She wanted to erase all memories of those she had loved, because everyone she had loved at one time or another had left, taking a little piece of her with them.

Once more she was drunk. And still drinking.

Currently she was nursing a tumbler of Armagnac, the strong alcohol leaving a trail of fire on her lips and down her digestive tract. As the liquor stilled in her stomach it seemed like it was corroding through her gut, whilst as she swigged back the rest of the glass, it feel like she was suckling on an ice cube – the golden brown liquid numbing her mouth.

The brunette hung her head, her stomach ached from her binge drinking, but no matter what substance she was abusing the ache in her heart never dulled. The image of Spencer still burned onto her brain, the memories of the last time she had seen the blonde played over and over in her intoxicated mind. She shot back whatever the fresh liquid in her glass was, a heartbroken scowl on her face.

Despite her better efforts, Ashley still couldn't shake the image of Spencer naked in bed with an unknown man.

And it was that image that haunted her sober mind.


	3. The head on a double sidded coin

Okay, I'm really not happy with this chapter, however I'm still posting it and remember - there are two sides to every story, and two ears on every head (random I know, sorry).  
As always, thanks for the feedback, it's fab-a-roo!

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Chapter 3 (Part A) "And the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick"

_**Two Months Prior**_

The brunette rubbed her eyes as she stared at the maths equation in front of her face, really who cared about quadratic equations? She leaned back, stretching out, satisfied when she heard her joints click and crunch. Yawning she let her mind wander, resting on her favourite subject; Spencer.

Things had been strange between them recently. They had gotten into another fight a couple of nights ago and it was killing them. Not the one fight though, it was one of many, and it was that, that was ripping them apart. The constant bickering. Neither girl needed it.

Spencer had come over the previous night and things seemed to be back on track. Although the blonde had seemed…"_off_", was the only way Ashley could put it. Her girlfriend was _off_. She wasn't her usual self; her mind seemed to be somewhere else. Ashley had made sure to ask Spencer if she was okay, the blonde girl would nod her head and mutter "fine", but Ashley knew she wasn't. But what could she do? Spencer wouldn't talk to her about it; all she seemed to be interested in was ripping Ashley's clothes off and throwing her onto the shorter girl's plush bed.

The sex had been incredible, it always was. But it was purely physical; there was no form of emotion attached to it – not from the blonde at least. Spencer had given her another great night, but the blonde didn't want her girlfriend touching her – not intimately, not like that. That was something else that seemed strange about Spencer that night – she never demanded sex from Ashley, but she was never as despondent as she had been the night before. Once she was sure she had gratified her lover and turned down her sexual advances, Spencer crawled into Ashley's arms and held onto her girlfriend all night long – almost afraid to let her go.

Ashley would have been willing to attribute Spencer's strange behaviour to her hormones or the order of the alignment of the planets or something, if, it weren't for the fact that Spencer couldn't meet her eyes. No matter how much she tried to hold her girlfriend's gaze, Ashley couldn't succeed; the blonde couldn't look at her.

Most people would have thought Ashley was a sleaze for sleeping with Spencer even though she knew something was amiss. But Ashley knew Spencer better than anyone else, and she knew that she wouldn't have managed to stop or question the taller girl, and she knew that Spencer wanted to be there with her – no matter how outlandish she was acting – and by forcing the blonde to stop and pay her the proper amount of attention, she would only start another fight. And neither of them needed that.

When Ashley had awoken the next morning (that morning), Spencer had been wrapped around her body, holding on for dear life, even in sleep her brow scrunched and knitted, her face an image of conflict and pain. It broke Ashley's heart to see the love of her life like that, but she knew that whatever the problem was, Spencer would confide in her, and she would in turn make everything alright again. Because that's what you do when you love someone.

Ashley blinked a couple of times, trying to focus her mind back onto mathematics, when her phone started to beep she grinned and threw her chewed pencil onto the open pages – happy for the distraction. She flipped the phone open, revealing her newest text message; "**Need 2 c 2 u. Come 2 my place l8r, bout 9. Luv Spencer**." Ashley frowned; her girlfriend usually threw in at least one "_x_" at the end of each message. She shrugged the uneasy feeling settling in her gut off, and smiled thinking of her beautiful girlfriend. Tossing her mobile phone back onto her bed, she decided she needed a shower.

At eight, fifty-seven Ashley pulled up outside of Spencer's modest house, sighing as she felt a wave of nausea sweep through her body – the uneasiness back. She shook her head from side to side, the motion making her chocolate brown hair free and tangle itself.

As she locked her car, her body went into autopilot, she had walked up to the same front door so many times before, she turned _her very own_ key in the lock, pushing the heavy front door open. She started to ascend the same stairs she had walked up a hundred times before, once at the top she took the first turn on the left – just like she had done over and over again. Smiling she opened Spencer's cream coloured bedroom door, just like every other time.

Her watch double beeped signalling the turn of the hour, as the door swung open and the smile left her face. Her eyes glued to the bed, Spencer's bed. The bed Spencer was in. The bed she and Spencer had spent so many nights (and so many days) in. The bed that a nameless guy was in, with Spencer, his body moving in and out of hers – just like Ashley had done so many times. He was groaning and Spencer – her girlfriend – had her arms wrapped around his back, her chin resting on his shoulder.

Ashley felt like she was going to vomit, she could feel the bile rising in the back of her throat. The brunette turned and ran. Her feet hitting every other stair on the way down, her body throwing itself into her car and driving as far away as she could, the tears streaming down her face unnoticed.

At exactly nine pm Ashley felt her heart rip apart and shatter within her chest.


	4. The second head on a doublesidded coin

I have an update - I'm not happy with it, but I do have it. I hope it explains stuff.  
And plus, you wouldn't believe how long I spent trying to come up with what Ashley would be saved as in Spencer's phone (I changed it last minute, from "Ash Mob").  
And, I don't know why I've randomly started to use song lyrics as titles to these two parts, meh, I'm weird.

For all thoes who have left feedback - you all rock like a big slab of igneous (rock)

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Chapter 3 (Part B)"You smiled at me and girl you tore right through me" Or, 

"I'll write your name across the wall with all the blood that spills from my heart"

_**Same Day – Spencer's pov.**_

---------------

She felt so tired, her constant fighting with Ashley weighing down on her heart – randomly making her sleepy. Each fight was about the same thing; Spencer's fear. Spencer's fear of her mother, Spencer's fear of Madison, Spencer's fear of not being accepted. You name it; the blonde was scared of it.

What Ashley didn't know – because Spencer hadn't told her – was that Madison and her army of cheerwhores were making her life hell, always snipping at her, their off hand comments digging deeper than anyone realised. Then there was her mother – who had recently found out exactly how close Spencer was to Ashley – and it would be an understatement to say that she wasn't happy. The elder Carlin had threatened to send Spencer back to Ohio, the blonde knew that her mother was serious, that was of course unless she ended her "_sordid little fling_" with Ashley. Unfortunately as her mother had only recently returned home, her father seemed to be doing anything his wife wanted, afraid that if he didn't she would leave. Spencer feared that, that included sending their deviant daughter to live with her grandparents. Paula wasn't the only one in her family who was proving to be a problem, as Glen had basically ostracised his little sister.

Ashley knowing little of all the pain her girlfriend was going through, found no logical reason for her fear and reluctance – hence where most of their fights were coming from. Only making Spencer feel worse. She felt guilt for not being truthful with Ashley – she was to nervous to tell her about all the psychological torment Madison was putting her through, worried that Ashley would get into another fight which would have been grounds for expulsion or just simply make it worse. As for what Ashley would do if she found out about Spencer's family, Spencer didn't want to think about that.

To add to everything else, Spencer knew that she wasn't putting her whole heart into the relationship because of everything else going on (and all of her fears). The blonde knew that Ashley deserved better. She deserved someone who wasn't scared to show how she really felt, someone who didn't look over her shoulder before leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lovers' lips. Someone better than Spencer.

The blonde yawned as she crawled onto her side, her mobile phone cradled in her hands as a report that her text message had successfully been sent to "_Snuggle Bunny_" flashed on the colour screen.

She thought back to the previous night, going over to Ashley's house, kissing the brunette, touching her, making her moan, making her whimper and gratifying her, over and over – never wanting the night to end. Never wanting to forget how the brunette felt, or looked, or tasted or smelt, or sounded or…she wanted every part of their loving making to be engraved in her mind. It was their last time together – Spencer knew that, Ashley didn't though. The blonde didn't want her lover touching her, not intimately, she didn't want to be pushed over the brink of ecstasy, she didn't deserve it. She knew Ashley was confused, but Spencer was going to make everything better – that night was about Spencer and her selfish wants and needs – she was going to make it so Ashley found someone better. Someone who could love her in the way the brunette deserved. The idea had come to her a few nights before after a row with her mother then with Ashley. The idea of hurting Ashley made Spencer sick to her stomach, but this way was easier and less painful for the brunette.

Spencer pushed Ashley away muttering about being "_too tired_", she crawled onto the person she cared about most in the entire world and urged herself to stay awake and take in every detail of their last night. But all too soon fatigue took over her small frame and pushed her into slumber, her arms holding wrapped around Ashley so tightly that with any more constriction the brunette was have been having problems breathing. The blonde never wanted to wake up, because she never wanted to let go, she never wanted to let go of the girl that she compared to the brightest stars in the galaxy. The girl that was more precious than platinum and rarer than a blue moon.

When she had woken the next morning Ashley had asked if she was okay and if she wanted to talk about anything, Spencer merely bobbed then shook her head, not trusting her voice. She had urged the brunette to have a shower, shooting her a confused look, Ashley had made her way to her en-suite. And Spencer had run out of Ashley's house as fast as she could. Doubting her ability to go through with what she had planned, knowing she _needed_ to.

The foundations were in place, now all she needed to do was lay the bricks. She was already at some random bar/club – she didn't know the name of the place, nor did she care – she was being served alcohol and guys were hitting on her; that was all she needed. Throwing her head back, she let another shot of vodka pour down her throat, the clear liquid scalding her insides. She looked at her watch, eight fifteen; she was on track. She just needed more alcohol, praying that if she drank enough she would forget the whole night. She nodded her head towards the bartender as she slapped another green bill onto the top of the bar.

It was ten to nine and he was pushing her though her bedroom door. Spencer tried not to compare him to Ashley; she tried not to think of how heavy and gruff his touch was, or of how he tasted like beer and cigarettes. She willed her mind not to notice the way old-spice lingered in the air around him – the scent turning her stomach.

She didn't want to take note of how fast their clothes were being ripped and thrown to the floor, or of how she was being tossed under the covers on her bed. She begged her brain not to register him entering her, and she willed her body to go numb. No part of her brain or body complied though – and her mind stayed painfully sober. She wanted to focus on something, anything other than his sweaty palms on her skin and his groans in her ear. Her eyes found an imperfection in the wood on the back of her bedroom door – it looked like someone had crudely tried to carve something into the wood. She gave the flawed area of door her full attention. She rested her chin on the guy's (whose name she didn't bother to ask for) shoulder, her blonde hair veiling her face – she could still see through perfectly, but no one would have been able to see _her_ face.

The piece of marked wood she was focusing on flew out of her eye line as she heard a double-beeping sound – the type emitted by a watch at the turn of the hour. Ashley stood in her doorway, her body stiff, tears welling in her eyes. The brunette turned and ran – completely unaware that Spencer had seen her, and that the blonde had seen all the pain pour into her eyes. Ashley had no idea that, that image would haunt Spencer, the image of her hurt-filled eyes. An image that struck like a blow ripping through her heart – crushing every part of her.

The boy seemed not to notice the appearance and disappearance of a third person in the room and continued with what he was doing – finishing quickly. Afterwards he was puzzled when Spencer pushed him away and told him to "_get the fuck out of her house_". The blonde had run to the bathroom feeling as if she was going to retch. The vodka shots she had downed under an hour before made a reappearance, and the blonde slumped next to the toilet.

Spencer crawled over to the bath/shower; using the frame she pulled herself up. She mustered the energy to turn the shower on and flopped into the tub, her shaking body directly underneath the cold jets.


	5. The poor groom's bride is a whore

Sorry for the lack of updats and sorry for the length and general crappiness of this update - it will get better.

Thanks for the feedback and, the chapter title is from the **Panic! At The Disco** song, "_I Write Sins, Not Tragedies_"

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Chapter 4 "What a shame, the poor groom's bride is a whore"

_**(Cont)**_

"_Hey dyke, where are the other sicko's like you?"_

"_Where's you dyke in shinning armour now?"_

"_You're fucking disgusting."_

"_Watch out girls, the lesbo's here, we better cover up."_

"_I bet she used to **love** being a cheerleader, getting to change with the girls, watching them get all sweaty, I bet she looked up their skirts too, she's sick!"_

"_Did you hear about what she did? She's such a whore."_

"_It's those fucking queer's, you can't trust them."_

"_Sick lesbian freak!"_

"_FUCKING DYKE!"_

Spencer's body shook as she woke up, her ears ringing. She blinked rapidly trying to figure out where she was, and why she was shaking so much. She squinted not ready for the optical assault, the lights in the bathroom glowing white.

With unsteady hands she reached up and turned the shower off, realising that she must have fallen asleep after, after…the memories of what she had done collided with her body like a ton of bricks. The shivering girl barely had time to lurch her head over the side of the bath, as fresh vomit poured from her mouth, the idea of what she had done leaving the sourest taste on her tongue.

Spencer had pulled herself out from the bathtub, grabbing a huge towel she wrapped it around her still shivering form, not bothering brush her teeth she crashed into Madison as she left the bathroom.

"Get away from me, dyke."

Ducking her head, Spencer hurriedly rushed to her room, slamming the door behind her and throwing herself under the covers – they smelt like aftershave and betrayal – she jumped back out of bed. Blindly ripping the cotton covers away from the mattress and duvet, pulling at the fabric, willing it off of the bedding, listening to it rip and shred in her hands. She continued to grab at the fabric, even after it was off of her bed, tearing the cotton over and over again.

The scraps of torn fabric lay over Spencer's floor as she collapsed back onto her bed, pulling the duvet back over her body, as she started to cry again. The sobs making her body quake.


	6. Run away, find a safe place you can hide

After a conversation with a well-known fic autor, it occurred to me that this fic had gone without an update for half a year, _eep_.  
Anywho, this is just something I dashed off, keen to get this fic back on track, it's not very good, but it's more of a filler piece.

The title "_Run away try to find a safe place you can hide_" is from the **Bullet For My Valentine** song "_All These Things I Hate (Revolve Around Me)_"

**

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Chapter 5 "Run away try to find a safe place you can hide"

_**(Cont)**_

She awoke when Paula came into her room and started shouting at her, her brain clouded with sleep, Paula's words far from intelligible. Spencer groaned and turned over, her body calling her mind back to the sugarcoated "reality" that lay deep within her subconscious.

"Oh no you don't young lady!" the words rung out through Spencer's cranium, Paula's mouth right next to her head, the elder Carlin's hands pulling at the duvet that Spencer held so tightly around herself, like a safety blanket. Spencer was becoming more lucid with each passing second, her eyes opening to the vision of an angry mother, her ears sore from the shouting. Paula stepped back, promising to return within ten minutes, her voice thick with malice, as she made her way over to the open door before she abruptly turned back and told Spencer to clean up her room, then she was gone, the door slamming behind her.

Spencer fully opened her eyes, regarding the mess of her room; the floor was covered with the fabric from her duvet cover; hundreds of strands of cotton lined the wooden floor, large patches of the _late_ item lay strewn all around the room and the air was heavy with the smell of a foreign aftershave. Spencer groaned at the sight, her stomach sore and her throat burning, her mind victim to a sudden assault of memories, **_what had she done_**?

Not wanting to be shouted at again, the blonde had gotten up, and with her thin duvet still wrapped around her small form she had made her way to the family bathroom. With the door safely locked behind her, and the all steam dispersing from the room, Spencer dropped the duvet and started to run the shower, her shaking hands adjusting the temperature of the water. Her pale fresh quickly reddened, the scalding water crashing onto her skin, setting her body of fire. It wasn't long before the small room was once again sheathed in steam, the thickness of the air stifling. The temperature of the water started to affect the youngest Carlin, she could feel a growing tightness in her chest and turned the shower off, her small form glowing red.

Thirty minutes and a snide comment from a homophobic mother later, Spencer was ready to leave for school. She didn't want to go, and contemplated skipping, unfortunately there was no way she could, Glen would drive her to the institution with Clay and once she was at school there was no way of leaving. She could feign illness, however a phone call from the school nurse to her mother, the doctor, and Spencer would be going nowhere.

A sardonic comment from Glen about Ashley not picking her up that morning and Spencer was close to breaking point, all she needed was something more to push her over the brink that she was teetering on.


End file.
